


Tears Like Psalms

by Superfast_Jellybitch



Series: Good Omens Shipping Roulette [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, Demony goodness, Drunk Sex, First Time, Other, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 11:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superfast_Jellybitch/pseuds/Superfast_Jellybitch
Summary: All Crowley's ever wanted is to feel loved again, and he's beginning to be far less particular about who fulfills that desire.(Note: This is NOT a standalone fic, and if you're here for plot reasons you should probably click the link to the collection)





	Tears Like Psalms

**Author's Note:**

> No seriously, this isn't a standalone. Go read "Words like Fire" and then come back. Look I'll even post the url
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/19881901/chapters/47088439
> 
> This takes place almost immediately after chapter 3.

Well, that was that then. Six thousand years together, raising a kid together, going through an entire bloody fucking  _ apocalypse _ together and it still wasn’t enough.  _ He _ still wasn’t enough. Crowley curled further in on himself, practically cuddling the bottle of top-shelf tequila he was using to drown out the memory. He vaguely registers the heavy footsteps behind him, recognizes the familiar gait, acknowledges that he should be worried, but can’t bring himself to care.

“Hullo, Hastur.” He greeted, not bothering to pick his head up. “Come to drag me to hell, have you?”

“Nah.” The voice from behind him is even flatter than usual. “Just spossed to ‘check’ on you. Like some fuckin  _ babysitter _ .”

“Well I’m still here. Job well done. Go home.”

“Pass me that bottle.” 

Crowley turned and looked at him for the first time since he’d shown up, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. Cautiously, he handed over the tequila. 

“You drink?”

“I do today.” 

Hastur tipped his head back and downed half the bottle in a way that would have been horrifyingly dangerous, were he human. Still, Crowley jerked the bottle away from him, more concerned for his alcohol stash than Hastur’s safety. The demon shot him a glare, sitting on the edge of Crowley’s desk. Gone is the tattered trenchcoat he so favored, and he sits in just his shirtsleeves and suspenders, looking surprisingly vulnerable.

“Honestly, I was surprised to find you here.” He said. “Thought for sure you’d be off somewhere bumpin’ uglies with that  _ angel _ .”

“So did I.” Crowley choked around the words. “What about you? Where’s Ligur? I heard that Adam brought him back.”

“Yeah. Michael were real pleased with that.” Hastur grumbled, upper body already sagging toward the desk

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

It was becoming increasingly clear to Crowley, that Hastur was a lightweight. Which was probably a good thing for his liquor supply, as the demon sprawled himself across his desk drunkenly, carelessly knocking things to the floor, letting his face rest against the cool mahogany. Personally, Crowley didn’t feel drunk  _ enough _ for this. He screwed off the top, finishing off the bottle and tossing it to the corner, miracling it to the wastebin before it can shatter to pieces on the floor. Much better. Muuuuuch better. Crowley slouched further into his chair. 

“I hate these.” Hastur frowned, reaching up to take Crowley’s glasses off of his face. He crushed them in his hand. “Why do you keep em on all the time anyway? S’not like you need em.”

“I like them.” Crowley shrugged. “They make me feel...safe.”

“S’at why you keep yourself so damn pretty, too?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. It’s gotta take an effort for you to stay so pristine- so undemonic. Why bother?”

“I like myself this way.”

“I don’t think that’s really it, love.”

Hastur’s hands cupped his face. The worn leather of his gloves is unbelievably soft, and Crowley was too drunk to think to stop himself from melting into the touch. It’s been so long since he’s been touched. 

“You know what I think? I think you’re scared.” 

“That’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. You’re scared, Crowley. You’re scared that when that silly little angel sees just a little too much demon in you, he’ll scram.”

“Hastur…”

“But the thing is, if ‘e were worth a damn, he wouldn’t care. He’s a stupid git, Crowley. They all are.”

“He’s not- I don’t… It’s me, okay?” Crowley admitted softly. He hated that Hastur could so plainly see the hurt in his eyes. “He’s not scared of me,  _ I’m _ scared of me.”

“Oh  _ Crowley…” _

It’s said so softly that Crowley fears he might break. Hastur slid off his desk and into his lap, landing in an ungraceful sprawl. Distantly, Crowley thinks they might both just be too drunk for this, but then Hastur’s pressed flush against him and his brain is turned to mush.

“You’ve been up here too long, poppet.” Hastur crooned, taking Crowley’s face in his hands again to press a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss to his forehead. “You’ve let them get in your head.”

Crowley didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to process any of this. Didn’t know what to make of someone he’d known to be so cruel in the past treating him so lovingly. He knew it was because Hastur was drunk, and Hastur was sad, and that otherwise this would very much not be happening, but that sounded like a problem for Sober Crowley. At the moment, Drunk Crowley was being kissed so tenderly that he could think of nothing else. Distantly, he’s aware of the fact that he’s slipping up. Of the fact that there are scales forming beneath Hastur’s hands, and his tongue is too thin to fill his mouth, and the whites of his eyes have disappeared.

“That’s it love. Let go. You don’t have to pretend ‘round me.” Hastur sighed, running a hand almost reverently across a newly formed patch of scales. 

“Hasssssthtur, I-” Crowley half-hissed, half-lisped. He winced at the sound of his own speech impediment. Damned serpent’s tongue. 

As if he could sense Crowley’s thought process, Hastur cut him off with another kiss. It’s hotter. Heavier. More determined. More...wet. Hastur had caught him off guard and taken the opportunity to slide his tongue past Crowley’s lips, tangling it against his own. It’s longer than a human tongue ought to be. Just a little sticky, too. He’d never made out with another demon before. Not in all the years since his fall. It’s comforting- to know that he can let go. That the other being pressed to him is just as damned as he is, and that there will be no recoil. No screams. He wrapped his arms around Hastur’s waist, holding him even closer.  _ Clinging _ to him.

Hastur pulled away, leaving Crowley confused and breathless as he hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and dragged them off his shoulders. Oh.  _ Oh _ . He isn’t. They  _ shouldn’t _ . 

“Hasssssthtur we really shouldn’t-” Crowley hissed, but he’s silenced by a finger pressed to his lips.

“Shhh. Times when you really shouldn’t are times when you  _ really should _ .” Hastur insisted, moving to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. “Now just let me take care of you.” 

That stirred something in Crowley. Something quite dangerous that he’d only rarely experimented with before. And certainly no one in his history had ever thought to phrase it like that. ‘Take care’ of him… he couldn’t say no to that. He wanted it too badly. He let Hastur divest him of his superfluous scarf, then his shirt, leaving them both bare chested in his office. Crowley wasn’t even naked yet, and already he felt more exposed than ever before. Hastur’s hands moved across his bare chest, touching every part of him that he could reach, paying special attention to every little patch of snake-like scales, rolling his hips against Crowley’s. Crowley hissed, his own hands finding purchase on Hastur’s bony hips, pulling him in closer. He’s already made an effort, apparently, and it’s pressed firmly against Crowley’s inner thigh. 

“Hasssssthtur….I have a bedroom, you know.” He managed. 

“Don’t wanna move.”

“Fine then.”

With a wave of his hand, Crowley transported them from the confines of his chair to the bed, sprawling out onto silk sheets. Hastur wasted no time in undoing Crowley’s fly and slinking a hand down the front of his pants. As the other demon rubbed circles against his clit, Crowley shivered and came to two distinct conclusions; the first beng that he’d made the right choice as far as genital structure, and the second that Hastur was  _ very  _ good with his hands. He hissed and writhed against him, long nails digging into Hastur’s shoulders as the demon worked him over. Hastur slid his too-tight jeans down his too-skinny legs, kissing his way down Crowley’s body until he finally settled between open thighs.

“You’re absolutely stunning.” He praised, and Crowley whined, hiding his face in his hands. 

Hastur licked across his sex, making the length of his tongue well-known as he flattened it against him. He moaned, legs quivering as Hastur laved his tongue across his slit, making almost musical sounds of delight as he wrought pleasure from him. Crowley was positively lost to it. He'd never so much as considered how good this could be. Not just the feeling of having his cunt licked so sloppily, but of being  _ worshipped  _ like this. Crowley could cry. If Hastur got him any closer, he just might. He buried his face in the pillows as Hastur changed his pace again, letting out something between a hiss and a mewl, toes curling despite himself. And then, it stopped. He cracked one golden eye open, investigating. Hastur had pulled back, and was resting his cheek on Crowley's thigh, eyes closed as if  _ he _ was the one currently overwhelmed. 

"Crowley…" he started, but trailed off as though what he was about to say was taboo. "I wanna fuck you. Please can I-"

"I will be thoroughly pissssssed if you  _ don't. _ " Crowley interrupted. 

"Can't have that." Hastur mumbled, crawling forward so that he was slotted perfectly between Crowley's slender thighs. “Want you nice and satisfied…..you’re so warm…”

“Hasssssthur please…” 

No sooner had the word left his mouth than Hastur was  _ finally _ pushing in. It was an odd sensation- just a little tight, just a tad uncomfortable- but then he bottoms out and- Oh! Oh that was  _ nice.  _ Crowley tossed his head back against the pillows, a moan escaping his lips before he can stop it. Maybe he doesn’t want to stop it. The walls of his apartment were most assuredly soundproof, but a distant part of him was reminded that this  _ was _ Hastur in his bed, and he shouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Hastur moved then, pulling out just a tad only to slam right back in, and it was made apparent that Crowley had very little say in his volume level after all. 

“That’s it love.” Hastur purred against his knee, bringing both of his legs to rest on his shoulders, sliding himself even deeper in the process. “Jus like that….Oh Crowley….”

Crowley couldn’t speak if he tried, so overwhelmed by pleasure that every time he did, all that came out were unintelligible hisses and moans. Why had no one told him that sex was this good? He rocked his hips into Hastur’s, meeting him thrust for thrust, distantly aware of the sound of skin on skin. It wasn’t just the physicality of it, either. Crowley couldn’t remember ever being praised so much, or touched so gently, or treated so delicately in his entire existence. Especially like this- all scales and fangs and slitted pupils. It was almost too much and yet still not quite enough. Hastur worked a hand down in between them, letting go of Crowley’s thigh to rub circles against his clit, his thrusts speeding up just a bit. 

"Yesssssssssssss!" Crowley hissed, sheets twisting in his hands. 

Orgasm was rapidly approaching, and while he chased it down desperately, a part of him didn't want this to end. He wasn't ready to go back to the way things were before. To the pain he was feeling before the liquor and the compliments and the mind blowing sex. To the loneliness now made just a little bit more unbearable by the thought of someone else in his place, holding  _ his  _ angel. He shuddered, legs trembling as he came, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Hastur follows almost immediately, Crowley’s name on his tongue and his nails digging scratches into his hips. And just like that, it was over, the other demon plopping himself on the bedsheets next to him. 

He was slicked with sweat, and cum, and something slimy and unidentifiable, and worst of all, he was sobering up. With a wave of his hand, Crowley miracled them both clean, unable to lay comfortably in that mixture for long. Hastur rolled onto his side, pressing himself against Crowley so that his head was tucked snugly under his chin. Absently, Crowley searched out his hand, threading their fingers together. The feeling of the alcohol leaving his bloodstream served to remind him that this was only temporary, but what remained begged him to hold on just a little longer. 

“Stop thinkin so loud, poppet.” Hastur rasped, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m tryin to sleep.”

“You sleep?”

“I’m thinkin about taking it up, yeah.”

“So you’ll stay then?”

“Of course. Now  _ shhhhh _ .”

And he did. Crowley relaxed, a heavy sigh falling from his lips as he did so, sliding even closer to the demon he’d called an enemy for centuries. He let himself be lulled into a contented slumber, thumb running across the back of his hand affectionately.

Crowley really shouldn’t have been surprised to wake up alone, and yet, when he reached out and found himself to be the only one in the bed, his heart sank. He was foolish to think that there was even a chance Hastur wouldn’t turn tail and run the minute he sobered up and realized what exactly they’d done. They were demons, it wasn’t in their nature to be affectionate, especially not with their history, so why the Heaven did he feel so gutted? 

  
Crowley rolled over, pulling his knees to his chest. What did it say about him when even  _ Hastur _ couldn’t stand to wake up next to him? He really was damned, huh? Completely unlovable. He’d asked too much again and had gotten burned for it. For the first time since this whole thing began, he lets himself cry.


End file.
